Bedtime Fury Page 11

  “I think Eden’s right,” Adele said. “It wasn’t like him at all.”

  “There’s more,” I said.

  “More about Hugh?” Husbourne asked.

  “No, more pod demons,” I replied. “Hugh’s not the only one who’s been inhabited.” I cut a sympathetic glance at Adele. “I think Corinne has, too.”

  Adele recoiled. “You can’t be serious. Not my grandbaby.”

  “Have you spent time with her recently?” I asked. “Has she seemed a little…flat?”

  Adele bit her lip. “Now that you mention it, I made bourbon raisin bread pudding the other night. It’s usually one of her favorites, but she didn’t make a fuss over it like she normally would.”

  “There are others,” I said. “And there will continue to be others until we can stop them.”

  “What do you suggest we do, Eden?” Aggie asked. “We need to prevent these demons from taking over the whole town.”

  “To be honest, I was hoping one of you might have wisdom to offer,” I said. “Aggie, you’ve been around the longest. Do you have any advice?”

  The older Grace shook her head. “I wish I did. They sound positively dreadful.”

  “What about the mayor?” I asked. “Maybe Husbourne should ask her to issue an alert. Something that requires residents to sleep with their windows closed.” Husbourne served on both the regular town council and the supernatural council, so he was our eyes and ears in local politics.

  “That might help reduce the spread a little bit,” Adele said, “but it won’t help those already taken over.”

  “And how would we explain this to the mayor without revealing too much?” Aggie added.

  “We would have to lie, obviously,” Husbourne said. “Invent a phony health notice about evaporated chemicals or allergens or some such nonsense.”

  “Lie to the mayor?” Aggie asked.

  “Darlin’, we do that every day,” Husbourne said. “Wilhelmina Whitehead is a human with no knowledge of the supernatural world.”

  “Yes, I understand that, but we don’t generally resort to bald-faced lies,” Aggie said. “We simply skirt the truth.”

  “I don’t see how else we can handle it unless you want to pull back the supernatural curtain,” I said.

  Adele clicked her perfectly shaped fingernails on the table. “Let’s make the request. At least it will help those still unaffected.”

  “Consider it done,” the white wizard said.

  “You should know that I think Rafael has been taken over, too,” I said. “That’s why I asked him not to come in for food and drink orders. I don’t know how the demons communicate, whether they’ll target us if they realize how much we know.”

  “What about the FBM?” Husbourne asked. “Can they send in a specialist team? It seems like one agent isn’t going to be enough.”

  “That’s not a good idea,” I said vaguely. I hated to cause more alarm than I already had.

  “Eden, what aren’t you telling us?” Aggie asked.

  I sucked in a deep breath. “According to our research, the FBM tends to take a scorched earth approach when it comes to pod demons.”

  Adele drew back and clutched her pearls. “You can’t be serious.”

  “It’s rare, but it happens,” I said. “Gas explosion. Nuclear radiation. They’ll come up with something to explain the tragedy.”

  “And wipe Chipping Cheddar off the map in the process.” Aggie’s lips formed a thin line. “We need a better plan than closing windows and swatting at spores.”

  “I agree,” I said. “That’s why I’m here.”

  “You’ve got to go back to the farm and examine the plant,” Adele said. “See if there’s a way to destroy it that won’t backfire on us.”

  “What if it’s like a weed that doubles down when you uproot it?” Husbourne asked.

  “Or just doubles,” Aggie added.

  “That’s the problem,” I said. “When I destroyed one spore, it created more. We’re not sure what the impact will be if we simply rip the whole pod out of the ground.”

  “What about Esther?” Husbourne asked. “You said she destroyed the spores in the air with her magic.”

  Her black magic.

  “There’s no guarantee it will have the same effect on the pod itself,” I said.

  “I don’t think we should encourage the use of dark magic,” Adele said, and I silently thanked her.

  “Even when it means saving the town?” Husbourne asked.

  “There has to be a way to manage this without requiring the involvement of those wicked witches,” Adele said. She cast a sidelong glance at me. “No offense, Eden.”

  “None taken.”

  “Let me know when you go back to the farm and I’ll go with you,” Adele continued. “Any magic I can do, I’m willing.”

  “Same,” Husbourne said.

  “Thanks,” I said. “I was hoping you’d say that.” Although it wasn’t a solution, it was a promising start.

  Chapter Twelve

  I opened my eyes the next morning and immediately touched my face and arms. Still inside my body. Phew.

  “Your phone has been noisy this morning,” Alice said. She drifted between boxes until she reached the bottom end of the mattress. “I hope it’s nothing urgent.”

  “I didn’t hear my phone,” I said.

  “That’s because your snores drowned out the sound,” Alice said. “You should consider a decongestant.”

  I reached for the phone on the floor beside me and immediately spotted a text from Neville. Five texts, in fact. He asked me to call him the moment I awoke.

  “It must be important,” Alice said.

  I glanced up at her. “You think?”

  “I contemplated waking you, but you’re a little scary when you first get up,” Alice said.

  I clicked Neville’s name and waited for him to answer. “Next time wake me, okay? Especially when lives are at stake.”

  “Thank the gods,” Neville said, sounding slightly out of breath.

  “What’s the emergency?”

  “I received a private message from someone on the forum last night regarding the pod demon,” he said. “He didn’t want to post.”

  “Why not?” What would be the harm in sharing his information?

  “He doesn’t want word to get around that his area took matters into their own hands,” Neville said. “Too risky.”

  “So what did they do?” I put him on speaker so that I could get dressed while I listened.

  “They’re vulnerable to magic-infused fire.”

  “That makes sense based on what Grandma’s magic was able to do to the spores,” I said.

  “It also explains why the scorched earth approach is favored by officials.”

  “So we burn the pod and any spores we see,” I said. “What about those already inhabited? How do we…uninhabit them?”

  “That part is somewhat unclear.”

  Of course it was. “How so?”

  Neville made a noise at the back of his throat. “There were no survivors.”

  My stomach plummeted. “And how is that different from the FBM’s approach?”

  “They didn’t destroy the area and everyone in it,” he said. “Only those inhabited by pod demons. It was a rural area, so it was easier to spin.”

  “And what was their official story?”

  “A tornado,” Neville said. “Brought down utility poles and a transformer and started a fire. A dozen people died in the blaze.”

  I felt nauseous for a fleeting moment, but it passed. I had to focus on the bright side. This was more information than we had yesterday. It helped.

  “What’s your source’s name?” I asked.

  “He didn’t divulge his real name, only his user name.”

  “Fine, what’s his user name?”

  The wizard hesitated. “IDumbleDoreYa.”

  I nearly choked on my saliva. “We’re taking advice from a wizard who makes puns out of Dumbledo
re’s name? Is that wise?”

  “He seems legitimate,” Neville said. “I checked his other posts on the forum and they all sound reasonable and well-informed.” He paused. “Besides, I don’t know that we have another choice at the moment. Waiting it out doesn’t exactly seem like a viable option.”

  No, it wasn’t.

  “Okay,” I relented. “I’ll assemble a team this morning to join me at the farm.”

  “Do you think bringing others into the mix is necessary?”

  “I spoke with the supernatural council last night and they want to help,” I said. “I think we should be as transparent as possible and let them be present when the pod is destroyed. That way there are witnesses and no lingering questions.”

  “Except for what happens to the occupied bodies,” Neville said.

  “I don’t suppose when the pod is destroyed that the demons fail to survive.”

  “Afraid not, Agent Fury. The spores will die if they fail to find a host in sufficient time, but there’s no evidence to suggest that the demons die when the pod dies.”

  I didn’t think it would be that easy or the FBM wouldn’t feel the need to wipe out entire populations.

  “Oh, and there’s more thing,” Neville said.

  “They’re allergic to water?”

  “No. They can communicate with each other,” he said. “It’s not quite telepathy. More like a computer network.”

  “Then it’s a good thing we’re the cyber crime experts,” I joked. “Thanks, Neville. Great work. I’ll let you know what time to meet as soon as I can.”

  I hurried downstairs for breakfast, feeling reinvigorated and ready to take on the pod demons.

  “Are you whistling?” my mother asked. She sat at the dining table with a steaming mug.

  “What’s wrong with whistling?” I asked. “It’s a beautiful day and I’m ready to embrace it.” And kill a demon-spawning pod in the process.

  “At least whistle something recognizable,” my mother said. “That racket sounds like you’re calling for Princess Buttercup while trapped under a fallen bookcase.”

  “That’s oddly specific.” The smell of freshly baked croissants wafted over to me and my gaze shifted to the oven. “Aunt Thora, did you make homemade croissants?” My day was really looking up.

  “I did,” Aunt Thora called from a chair in the family room. “They’re still warm. Help yourself.”

  I punched the air.

  “And you think I get excited over stupid things,” Grandma said as she shuffled into the kitchen.

  My mother looked at me intently. “Eden, you’re acting strangely upbeat this morning. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Eden’s been acting strange since she was old enough to talk,” Grandma said.

  “Even before that, really,” my mother said, “if you count all the times she refused to suckle.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I wasn’t a baby goat. I didn’t suckle.”

  “Exactly,” my mother said.

  “You really can’t blame me for my failure to latch properly,” I said. “I was a newborn.”

  My mother pushed back her shoulders and looked at me. “Then who am I supposed to blame? Certainly not the most perfect bosom in the history of bosoms. My nipples are like bull’s-eyes.”

  Grandma opened her mouth to unleash a witty retort but shook her head instead. “Too many good responses to that. I can’t choose just one.”

  “I’m sure my failure to breastfeed had nothing to do with your body,” I said, feeling generous. “Younger women would love to have a body like yours.” Operation Kill Them With Kindness was back in effect.

  “Don’t make your mother’s head any bigger than it already is or she’ll end up looking like you did the other day,” Grandma said.

  I poured myself a cup of coffee. “Who made the pot?”

  “I did,” my mother said. “And I added a dash of devil’s claw to the grounds to help with some inflammatory issues I’ve been having.”

  Oh, well. Extra creamer and a buttery, flaky croissant would mask the taste.

  I stood at the island and bit into the croissant. It was divine. “Am I the only one having a croissant?”

  “I’ll have one,” Grandma said.

  “Me, too,” Aunt Thora called. “I was waiting for everyone else.”

  “Not me,” my mother said. “I have a date tonight and I can’t afford the calories. It’ll be fruit and nuts all day until Roger picks me up.”

  “Who’s Roger?” I asked.

  “He’s an appraiser,” my mother said. She wore a demure smile. “And I can’t wait to hear how much he values me.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be at the top of his list,” I said. I pulled out my phone to text Adele and Husbourne about meeting me at the farm.

  My mother studied me. “I didn’t hear a trace of sarcasm in that statement.”

  I took another sip of coffee. “Because there wasn’t any. I mean, I don’t know who Roger is, but I highly doubt he’s been out with anyone like you before.”

  Grandma walked a semi-circle around me. “You’re right, Beatrice. Your daughter is behaving funny.”

  “What’s wrong with being nice and complimentary?” I asked.

  “Nothing, except you’re a Fury,” Grandma said. “We don’t do that.”

  “Pod demons do that,” my mother said. She set down her mug with a determined thump.

  “I’d look the same even if I were inhabited by a pod demon,” I said. “There’s no point in examining me.”

  My mother left the table and moved closer to scrutinize me. “Then how do we know you haven’t been abducted?”

  “Because I’m standing here,” I said. “If I were abducted, I’d be taken away. That’s pretty much the definition.”

  “You know what I mean,” she said.

  My mother snapped her fingers in front of my face and I pushed her hand away. “Stop.”

  “Stop because you’re a pod demon or because it’s annoying?” my mother asked.

  “It could be both,” Grandma said.

  “If I tell you I’m a demon, will you leave me alone?” I asked. “I need to send an important text.”

  “There’s only one way to know for certain,” Grandma said. “We have to kill her.”

  “No,” I said. “You really don’t.”

  My mother’s hand flew to her hip. “What’s the problem? If it’s actually you, you’ll just come back.”

  “And if I’m actually a demon, what will happen?” I asked. “We don’t know the repercussions.” I thought of my efforts to destroy the spores in the guest bedroom. “What if they’re like a hydra and two of me come back?”

  “Hydra from mythology or Hydra from Marvel’s Agents of SHIELD?” Grandma asked.

  “Same principle either way.”

  “When I was a little girl, I wanted a hydra for a pet,” Grandma said.

  “Most kids want a pony,” I said.

  “Screw a pony. A pony can’t grow back two heads.” Her face lit up. “A two-headed pony isn’t such a bad idea. Maybe there’s a spell…”

  I moaned. “Grandma!”

  “Eden seems fine to me.” Aunt Thora observed me from the family room.

  “You always think everyone’s fine,” my mother said. “You’re not as observant as the two of us.”

  Aunt Thora went back to her crossword puzzle. “Observant enough to see your crow’s feet.”

  My mother gasped and her fingers flew to touch the skin next to her eye.

  “Anyway, I’m still me,” I said. “Promise.”

  “These demons are supposed to give people a lobotomy,” Grandma said. “Make you act polite and bland, like somebody from Ohio.”

  “Mother, don’t be ridiculous,” my mother said. “There are plenty of interesting people from Ohio. Don’t you remember that lovely wizard we met from Columbus with the big staff? Now he was far from bland.” She looked like the cat that ate the cream—because she probably did.
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br />   “Please tell me you’re talking about a walking stick,” I said. “I just thought it would be a positive change if we treated each other nicely and I decided to be the one to initiate it.”

  “That’s exactly what a demon would say if it wanted to convince us,” my mother said, still suspicious.

  I walked toward Aunt Thora to seek shelter from the brewing storm. They weren’t letting go of their absurd theory and I had the sinking feeling there was only way to resolve the argument.

  “I’ll prove it,” I said. “Ask me something no one else knows except us.”

  “That won’t prove anything,” Grandma said. “A pod demon has all your same memories.”

  “Tell them it’s me,” I urged my great-aunt.

  Aunt Thora set her crossword puzzle on the end table. “Since when do they listen to me? My opinion is as irrelevant as yours.” She offered an uplifting smile. “Cheer up. Even if they do kill you, it only hurts for a minute and you’ll be back soon enough.”

  “I don’t have time to be dead!” I said.

  “Oh, Eden,” my mother said. “Nobody has time to be dead.”

  “I do,” Alice said, popping out of a wall. “All the time in the world, in fact.”

  “Alice, help me,” I said.

  “How?” the ghost asked. “I have no way of interfering with their magic.”

  “Where’s Princess Buttercup?” I asked. She wouldn’t let them hurt me.

  “I saw her sniffing around the barn,” Alice said.

  “Your precious hellhound can’t save you, pod demon,” my mother said.

  “I’m not a pod demon!” I leaned against my aunt on the sofa, not that using her as a human shield would really help. They’d kill us both. I felt like I was eight years old all over again, trying to prevent another punishment after I refused to turn a mean boy in my class into a toad. Kevin McMahon spent a good portion of second grade yanking on my pigtails and other shenanigans. My mother and grandmother had taught me how to perform minor revenge spells and were furious with me for refusing to use one to defend myself.

  “What a waste of talent,” my mother had said to eight-year-old me. “If I had your abilities, I’d be ruling half the country by now.”